Protector
by Tsukiyomi no Mikoto
Summary: Grimmjow may be a heartless Espada, but when he realizes he may have found someone he can give up his pride for, the void in him begins to fill. Ichigo has lost his powers, but when the man he loves is in danger, he learns that he never lost the power to protect.
1. Sehnsucht

**A/N:** **Would you believe it if I said this is my first GrimmIchi fic ever? Perhaps not. But it actually is. I've read loads of GrimmIchi, but damn this is the first time I'm getting the courage to write one. Anyway, this is an AU of sorts. It sticks to canon up to a point (where Ichigo bids goodbye to his powers and is a normal human), but then diverges completely.**

**This is the first chapter of several, and because I don't want to waste time with trivial details like what Ichigo had for lunch or what homework he was given or how lovely the cat's fur was (what cat? lol you will know as you read) or what shoes Ishida was wearing, this first chapter may seem rushed. Think of it as a prologue, but not really a prologue. **

**I'm going to be as quick with updates as possible. I'm so excited to write this fic! And I hope you guys will be as happy to read it.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Bleach (Tite Kubo does) but damn I wish **_**I **_**did. Oh well. And hey, I'm not mentioning this every chapter. This is the disclaimer for the whole story.**

* * *

**Protector  
Chapter 1: Sehnsucht**

"IIIIIIchiiiiiig – ow!"

"Yo, Ichigo."

"Kurosaki-kun! Good morning!"

The aforementioned Ichigo Kurosaki smiled at the two people in front of him, and spared a look at the third friend, who was currently caught in a lock. "Hey Mizuiro, Inoue." He let his arm free and his friend fell down to the ground with a much-exaggerated groan. "Yo, Keigo. Don't spend all morning on the floor." he added, as he walked into class.

"Ichigo! You're still so distant these days! What happened to our friendshi…." Keigo's voice became indistinguishable as Ichigo pushed the sliding door shut, walking directly to his preferred seat by the window. Ishida glanced at him from behind his book on sewing techniques, and Tatsuki grinned from the back of the class where she was holding Chizuru back from pouncing on Orihime.

In other words, it was a completely normal morning in Karakura High School. As normal as things could get in the little town; perhaps even more normal than usual.

Karakura Town's threshold of normality was different from that of most towns, and that was obvious to most people living there. Nearly every day there would be a report of mysterious sounds, or sudden crashes, or distant wails which some people claimed to hear from nowhere. To most normal residents, it was creepy, frightening even. To a small minority, it was everyday business to hear these reports, and these special few would take care of any visible concerns in the town. Visible to them, at least – not necessarily everyone else.

Exactly 17 months ago, the town had known true devastation for the first time, when the Shinigami of Soul Society were forced to defend it from the exploits of the Arrancar and the traitorous Aizen Sosuke, Gin Ichimaru, and Kaname Tosen. Successful they were, but only by a hair's breadth, so to speak, and only because Ichigo Kurosaki had been there to bring an abrupt end to the battle with his formidable powers as a Substitute Shinigami, at the cost of losing them all.

Today, Ichigo Kurosaki was seventeen months older, and only had the badge to prove that he had once been the person around whom great battles had been fought. He was just another normal high school senior now, and the world of the Shinigami was closed to him once more. This time, perhaps forever.

He wasn't really sure what to make of that. Perhaps he had realized his unspoken dream of being just another person who could blend into the crowd. But he couldn't protect his friends and family effectively any more. Now they were the ones protecting him.

Maybe he wanted something to upset the still waters and add some color to his life. He looked almost despondently at the sky from outside the window, as if expecting a portal to open, or for something to fall out of the sky to give him some more hope, but nothing whatsoever happened. He was faced with a lovely, brilliant blue on that cloudless day.

"Kurosaki!"

He snapped his head back to the front of the class and was confronted by Ochi-sensei's frustrated visage, rapping on the blackboard. "Concentrate in class, will you!" He didn't so much as hear what she said afterward. She was teaching Shakespeare, and he knew it back to front - he had read it so many times.

Almost absentmindedly, he slipped a hand into his bag and drew out the little wooden badge with a simple black skull on it, tilting it this way and that, almost expecting it to beep and signal a Hollow somewhere. Maybe if he was still a Shinigami, he'd be running over to the Hollow by now.

Almost as if reality had decided to echo his thoughts that day, Ishida stood up quickly, pushing his glasses up his nose. _Wow, so there really is a Hollow. Heh._ His thoughts immediately flitted to Karin and Yuzu as he saw Ishida run down the hallway, Ochi-sensei's voice admonishing him, but knew Ishida wouldn't let anything happen. He could trust his friends, at the very least.

"Kurosaki-kun?" _Again?_

Almost irritated, he looked back up and saw not Ochi-sensei's, but Inoue's face in front of him, perplexed. "Eh, Kurosaki-kun, it's lunch time already, did you forget?" His face softened as he replied, "No, I'll just be there, Inoue, you head on with Tatsuki." She smiled brightly in response and was about to skip away, but stopped after going a few feet ahead. "Kurosaki-kun...you've been looking really distracted these days. Is - is something wrong?"

His eyes widened momentarily. Trust Inoue to ask questions like these exactly when he felt under the weather; it was unsettling at times and welcoming at others. This time, though, he wasn't sure whether he felt anything at all, but he managed to force a smile and say, "Nah, I was just thinking. Go on, I'll be there soon."

She gave him a look that said 'Well, alright' and looked like she was about to say something else, but almost suddenly, a bright smile was back on her face and she said, "Don't be too late, ok?" before running away to join Tatsuki, who was outside the class waiting for her. He could hear her asking, "What took you so long?" and Orihime's nervous "eheheheh" came in response. She passed Ichigo a questioning look as she walked down the hallway, but he decided not to trouble his childhood friend with the details.

It seemed like an eternity that he sat there, thinking of nothing in particular, just needing some time alone to process everything that had happened 17 months ago. It felt like he could never reminisce enough, like he always needed to sit down and think 'what do I do now?' He honestly didn't know the answer to that question. For now, everything was just part of a never-ending routine – wake up, go to school, go to work, return home for dinner, do homework, and sleep with conflicted dreams. Insert interactions with people into that equation, and that explained his day. He wondered how he had managed to get through so many months of that drudgery.

Once again, his eyes drifted to the clear blue of the sky, and he felt that if he stared at it, he might feel a bit better, a bit calmer for a while. Indeed, the best thing to calm all the voices of restlessness inside his head was either to offer them a welcome distraction, or to engage himself in activity, and right now he chose to distract.

* * *

If there was wind, it would have sent the coarse white sand flying. But there wasn't any wind there, and the sand lay completely still, as did the air. There wasn't a single sound to be heard in that quietest of deserts.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The fragile silence was rent apart by the muffled sounds coming from nearly a mile away. A draught of wind swept across the sand, the grains momentarily being whisked into the air and then quickly settling back.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The intervals between the sounds were smaller now, and the sound itself was deeper. From a distance, a sharp-eyed observer could see sand being kicked up in the distance. All of a sudden, there was a rasping roar.

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

Nearly five dark forms appeared to be approaching, and from the increasing sound, at a great speed. They were probably running, or considering the place, they were likely to be fleeing from someone or something. Another of the roars, and the sand was disturbed again. The tranquil, almost peaceful night was suddenly one where the reishi-laden air pulsed with the panic and distress emanating from the forms, which were now identifiable as Adjuchas, hurtling through the sand at an incredible speed, their movement indistinguishable to humans. The crooked trees which interspersed the desert were trampled down in the stampede.

Behind these roaring, animalistic creatures, a smaller, more sculpted form followed, and it was almost immediately noticeable that it ran at a faster speed than the escaping Adjuchas. An astute observer would say its silhouette was that of a well-built man with a shock of hair and considerably loose, flowing clothes. The man growled and raised his palm, whispering a word that was lost in the howling of the sand, and a red blast of energy incinerated the Adjuchas as they ran, their final screams lost in the sound of the blast itself. The man came to a halt and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. This man was the Sexta Espada, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

Well, only the lingering tattoo on his back was any indication of that. Aizen was gone, and so was his stupid hierarchy designating who was stronger and weaker. As if anyone was stronger than _him_. He spat on the ground. _Tch, useless Hollows_. They weren't even worth a good fight. When he was an Adjuchas he wasn't a pansy coward; he leapt and pounced and devoured anyone who so much as dared to challenge him. These new Hollows were all worthless, a waste of his time. Why did he even think about challenging him? They were too weak to even be called practice.

He stopped and surveyed the surroundings. One would wonder why Grimmjow spent so much time fighting nearly everyone he came across, even when he wasn't being challenged. But he had a score to settle, a fight to finish, and he was itching to get it started, itching to win. He wouldn't tolerate anyone just stamping over his dignity and considering him someone to pity. He wasn't someone who would allow shit like that, people thinking he was weak. He was never weak. He would never be weak. He was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, and he was the king of Hueco Mundo.

Instinctively, as he thought of his opponent, he snarled. This time there would be only one victor, and that victor would be him. Let's see how well-honed Ichigo Kurosaki's powers were now. He must have not even practiced, thinking that everything was over now that that bastard Aizen was dealt with. Well, he'd be getting a surprise, then. Grimmjow loved surprise attacks.

He simply couldn't wait to get his hands on him. Not anymore. It had been seventeen whole months of practice and waiting.

With much crackling, an endless void opened before him. He leapt into the Garganta he had opened and swiftly made his way across the inter-dimensional space that separated him from his much-deserved fight. In the real world, there was more crackling, and the Garganta opened its large mouth in the sky. Grimmjow slowed his pace and leisurely stepped out of the void, inhaling the air which smelled of weak, useless souls. Somewhere in that midst, Kurosaki was hiding, probably completely unaware of the great fight that would ensue.

"Here I come, _Kurosaki_!" he growled with barely hidden eagerness, exposing his teeth in a feral smile. Vengeance would be so sweet.

* * *

It was evening now. School was long since out, and Orihime was only just skipping out of the bakery, basket full of bread in one hand and a box with a big cake in it in the other. She had had such a great time at work today! Her boss had allowed everyone to try their hand at baking a cake of their own creation. She hadn't ever been too good at baking cakes, but she was sure she got the hang of it today. She wished she could share it with her friends, but she was afraid she wouldn't have gotten it as perfect as she would have wanted to.

After handing over the bread to Ishida-kun (because she had already given Kurosaki-kun and Sado-kun bread in the past week), she would go shopping for some new ingredients that would make her cake even better. The bakery didn't have all of those, which was too bad, but the big cake she would bake the next week, she would make sure to put in all those.

It was going to be a lovely chocolate cake for Kurosaki-kun's birthday! She was so excited. Everyone was planning a big party for him and she still hadn't bought him a present. She wondered what to give him that he would like. Maybe she could give him the new Tekken game that was out! Or… tickets to a concert! Or some books that he would like. Kurosaki-kun acted all the same after he had lost his powers, but he looked so desolate that she could feel it within herself…she really wanted to cheer him up. She really hoped he would become his usual self on his birthday.

She was close to Ishida-kun's house now, so she slowed her pace a little. There was a little starved cat on the side of the road. It was all white, and had piercing, needy eyes that longed for food. It was probably too hungry to even move. She felt really sorry for it and stopped, watching it for a while. Maybe she could feed it some bread? She drew a small roll from the basket and nimbly tiptoed over the cat. It meowed when she approached, and she giggled and broke the roll into several small pieces, placing them slowly before it and watching its actions with amused eyes. It deftly drew one in with its paw and snapped it up, and then another. She probably had to give it another roll; it seemed ravenous. Perhaps she should bring extra rolls next time!

It meowed at her. It was already done with this one. She picked another small one from the basket and was about to hand it to the cat, when her skin prickled unpleasantly.

Immediately she dropped the roll, the cake and the basket and jumped up, hands raised. She knew exactly what that prickling meant – new reiatsu. Unwelcome reiatsu. Her breathing automatically quickened and her eyes darted around. She was ready to run, fight or defend, whatever the situation called for. She wondered if Ishida-kun had felt it too. And Sado-kun.

For a small while, the prickling continued, and she frowned. _Where is this coming from? Who is it? It's not an ordinary Hollow_. She considered putting up Santen Kesshun, but decided that was probably unnecessary seeing as she didn't even know what the threat was. Maybe it wasn't even a threat; maybe it was just some new Shinigami she didn't know. When nothing happened, she straightened up, and picked up the basket and the cake, leaving the cat clawing at some of the rolls that had fallen down due to the impact. Suspiciously and cautiously, she continued walking to Ishida-kun's house, looking around carefully, when there was an ominous crackle.

She knew that sound all too well. Whipping around immediately, she looked up at the sky and saw the Garganta slowly split the seamless blue sky with an expanding black void. In the center of the void stood a lone figure, whose identity she wasn't so sure of, until the reiatsu washed over her like an oncoming tide, suffocating her with the shock and the memories it produced in her rather than its pressure_. A-Aren't you supposed to be dead?_ She immediately had images of being gagged, bound and powerless; being tossed on the ground; her throat being grasped so roughly she couldn't so much as budge. All she knew with this person was suffocation and fear. _Grimmjow!_

He stepped forward. His reiatsu was tingling with anticipation – for _what_ she didn't know yet, but she knew that he had some sort of personal vendetta with Kurosaki-kun…oh no! Kurosaki-kun was virtually powerless now! If she went now and tried to save him, she might be too late, and she definitely wouldn't be able to stand up to his power; she had to be practical. The cake, the basket – all of it was on the ground, and those didn't matter now. She had to get support and get Grimmjow out of Karakura Town now. Turning around, she instinctively ran to Ishida-kun's house with all the energy she could muster, but bumped almost immediately into someone who caught her arms before she could fall backward.

"Inoue-san! Are you alright?" It was Ishida-kun, oh thank goodness for his arrival! She didn't have to waste any more time looking for him too. He must have already sensed the danger, and the strain was evident in his voice, as if every moment wasted in talking was an eternity. She felt the same.

"I-Ishida-kun…" she panted, desperation evident in her voice, "It's the Espada that Kurosaki-kun fought. Grimmjow. I think he's looking for Kurosaki-kun again, but I don't know if we're enough to fight him. What do we do?" She said all this very fast; Ishida could hear the tension in her voice. He was worried himself, even if he didn't show it.

"Inoue-san, right now, let's just hurry there before we worry about whether we can face him or not." He didn't know the extent of the Espada's power. _I hope my training helps. Then again, he could have trained as well. Why must he come now! _He gritted his teeth and began to run. "Inoue-san, come! Let's make it before anything happens." She nodded in consent, trying to quiet her racing mind, sweat beading on her forehead. _Kurosaki-kun! Please be safe!_

* * *

Ichigo stopped for a minute on the roadside, wiping the sweat (and evident irritation) off his forehead. The boxes in his arms weighed a ton, and why the hell did he have to carry these for some old geezer who was moving house? Damn that Unagiya, couldn't she keep her clients a bit closer to home… he balanced the boxes in his arms again and swiftly strode over to the side street where the client was supposed to be, endeavoring to get the job done as quickly as he could and get home. Hopefully that woman didn't drag him back and push him out into the streets for more work.

Elsewhere, Orihime and Ishida were frantically searching for him, his location almost impossible to trace due to him having little to no distinguishable reiryoku. Right now, he was just another ordinary human…and any latent abilities were all deep below the surface.

_Kurosaki-kun…where _are_ you?  
Kurosaki, you'd better be somewhere we can find you right now!  
Heh, Kurosaki, you don't know _what_ you've got coming!_

* * *

**A/N:** **So this was the first chapter! Review, please, I'd like to know these bags under my eyes from staying up late planning out this fic aren't all for nothing…**


	2. Alharaca

**A/N:** **And here's the second chapter! Hopefully things start settling down here for readers and give more of an introduction to the story.**

**Enjoy reading!**

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**Protector  
Chapter 2: Alharaca**

For a few minutes, he surveyed the scene smugly. He was here, and he was proud. The fight would finally end the way he wanted it to. Shutting his eyes, he initiated a full Pesquisa on the city. His consciousness searched rapidly for other spiritually advanced beings, waiting for the flames to appear, dotting the Eigengrau of his vision behind his eyelids. It was a mere few seconds later that his eyes snapped open. The healer girl and some weird friend of hers were together – he wasn't really sure of what that guy was supposed to be. Another of Kurosaki's friends, the tall dark guy who did some shit with his arms – useless as well. Some weaker souls peppering the town.

And no Kurosaki.

He frowned impatiently. How could his own Pesquisa fail him? He started it again, this time spreading it carefully all over the city, covering all the corners he could have probably missed in the previous search. The same souls showed up prominently again, but Kurosaki's reiatsu was nowhere there. What the hell? The kid was probably masking his reiatsu. Maybe he even knew Grimmjow was coming. _Can't hide from _me_ for too long, ha!_ He would go and look for him carefully in the town before considering any alternatives.

With a whoosh, he descended, hurtling through the air at an incredible speed, eyes watchful all the while. Street after street, building after building, and his eyes were all over the place, trying to spot the carrot-top. He had to give it to him; he did have an unconventional hair color. But that was all the more appreciable, because it would make him easier to find.

Maybe Kurosaki was with Shinigami geezers in Soul Society. Going all the way there would be a colossal waste of time, and he'd have to fight through a bunch of senile old fools to get to him. He knew Kurosaki would probably be the type to stand before all of them and try to be all heroic, shouldering the fight himself, but no way would the rest of them agree to let him take the responsibility. More likely, Kurosaki wouldn't even agree to fight there because he'd want to "protect" everyone from the damage. That kid had serious authority issues. No one needed his protection, least of all his pity. His mind flicked back to the fight 17 months ago and he twitched in irritation. Kurosaki needed some lessons on treating people equally when it came to fights.

If he had to, though, he'd drag him out of whatever hellhole he was in, to fight. He'd better be prepared. A smirk settled on his lips.

The wind whipped his hair and his clothes to one side, and he instinctively brushed the bangs away from his eyes. Karakura Town was full of worthless souls. A mere few had been entrusted with any spiritual power at all, and all those happened to be children. It was laughable. At least someone older might be able to offer him a better fight. He barely spared a glance at the multitude of humans who were not Kurosaki. His search was fruitless so far, and the seeds of impatience and fury were already germinating in his mind. _Are you running away, Kurosaki? I didn't take you for a coward!_

The little seedling was beginning to poke through the soil. His frustration was slowly brewing as he came to a halt and angrily looked below for anyone at all that resembled. The kid definitely had to be in hiding. Usually he'd be the first one out to confront him; where the hell was he now? Maybe he really wasn't in the area; maybe he needed to go to the Shinigami's realm after all. Grimacing, he cast a close-range Pesquisa once more before heading to Soul Society. This Pesquisa had a smaller range, and a greater strength. Kurosaki _had_ to be leaking some of the reiatsu unconsciously, which would make it easier to find him even if he was hiding.

The smallest blue flames quickly dotted the vision behind his eyes. Kurosaki could be anyone from those hundred different souls. Or he didn't even have to be in that range; he could be away from the reach of the Pesquisa. He gritted his teeth. "Damn you, Kurosaki! Just come out of wherever the hell you are!" His voice came out as a loud bark, and a few of the humans lifted their heads to see what above them what causing the sudden, uncalled-for noise. They had searching, confused expressions on their faces as they tried to explain to the others with them that something they couldn't see was yelling in the sky. A few others laughed at the preposterousness of that situation.

His eyes drifted to those humans; did they want a piece of his anger? He seriously considered Cero-ing the entire area so Kurosaki would wake up from whatever deep sleep he was in and come to fight him.

Fighting was in Grimmjow's blood as an Espada, and he wouldn't be denied his share of it.

He raised his palm. Time to cause some destruction in this peaceful little town. A red ball of crackling energy formed at his will, taking an agonizingly long time, but only because he wanted it to be as powerful as possible. Someone on the roadside screamed.

Just as the word "Cero" was at the edge of his lips, a figure came across his vision. His eyes widened, and he forgot about the Cero altogether.

It was Kurosaki Ichigo, the great Substitute Shinigami himself, down on a side street, walking leisurely along the path as though no one was watching him. _Fuckin' jackpot. _

"Oi, Kurosaki!" Sneering contentedly to himself, he wondered how much reiatsu he had as a human. As a response to his own question, he tried to sense his familiar reiryoku. The reiatsu that was palpably visible, burning in those mocking eyes of his every time he glanced at Grimmjow with all his determination. _Give me all you've got._ He could feel the excitement all the way to the tips of his toes and fingers. Throwing his head back, he let out a mirthless laugh, flexing his arms in readiness.

He felt nothing but a thousandth, no, perhaps a millionth of the reiatsu that usually poured from Kurosaki unheeded, even as a human. Something was wrong. He descended quickly and barked his name again. Maybe the kid had forgotten who he was; maybe that's why he didn't recognize him. This time, he'd make sure the fight would remain ingrained in every fiber of his being as an excruciating reminder.

Kurosaki didn't so much as spare a glance at him.

Now he was seriously ticked off by this guy. Any trace of his laughter a few moments back had disappeared from his face. Without stopping to think, he shunpoed over to him and pulled him back by the shoulder. "You deaf or something?" What the hell was up with his reiatsu anyway? Oddly, it was just like the other humans'. Except he was a bit more used to its general feel. Was he blocking it on purpose or something?

Kurosaki lost balance and tripped backwards, and automatically got up and yelled at his back, "Hey, what do you wan- Eh? No one's there." For a moment he looked around himself, and noticing no one on the same street as he was, narrowed his eyebrows and cautiously resumed his walk back down his path.

For a moment he just stared. Did Kurosaki see him at all? He felt vaguely unsettled, but brushed it off and dragged him back again. With a firm grip on his shoulder, blue eyes staring into shocked brown ones, "Stop pretending like you didn't see me! Trying to evade a fight, huh, Kurosaki? Stop masking your reiatsu!" The tension in his own voice was almost tangible, and he was beginning to notice it. A few seconds later, Kurosaki's fist brushed by his jacket as it hit in his general direction.

"Look, whoever you are, quit your childish games, ok?" More that frustration, there was a certain resigned, hollow tone in his voice that Grimmjow disliked – it was devoid of the usual passion and determination that he associated with Kurosaki. "If you're a soul…I can't see you guys anymore. You gotta wait for someone like Rukia to come along and send you to Soul Society. Not me." His hand pushed off Grimmjow's, leaving him standing there in bewilderment.

_He can't see me. _He wasn't even sure what to believe. This guy was full of surprises. Plus, his power was uncharacteristically low… "Kurosaki." It came out as a hoarse whisper. He didn't remember his voice being so frail in ages. _You can't see me anymore._

A memory flashed in his mind; of Kurosaki looking down at him with eyes full of – not hatred, not anger – but pity. He absolutely hated being looked down as a lower being that was worth of a mere Shinigami's _pity_. And now, he didn't so much as look into his eyes anymore. Was he that repulsed? Was he truly…stronger? Maybe he was so strong that Grimmjow couldn't even sense his power. His fists clenched. _Look at me, damn it._ His teeth were gritted so tightly they could break. _Fucking underestimating me is all you're ever good at_.

Something in him snapped. He shook his head and let out a terrifying roar of fury. The seed was now a full grown tree. His reiatsu unleashed itself like a river gushing out of the banks during a flood. He didn't know how else to react to this situation. Seventeen months he had waited and trained doggedly, like a man possessed. Seventeen months' worth of carefully honed strength – all a fucking waste. Kurosaki didn't even have any power anymore. As if he knew or cared how that happened; all he wanted from him was a good fight. _And recognition. And pride. The dignity that you lost - _the smallest of voices spoke up within him. It was as if the conscience he had lacked for hundreds of years was beginning to emerge again just now. He shook it all away. As if he needed reminders of what he was fighting for!

He raised a leg and kicked the building nearby; the walls collapsed instantly with a huge rumble and a thud. Kurosaki had long since turned around the corner; he obviously didn't even know the extent of Grimmjow's pent-up anger.

_Those eyes…what emotion do they hold now, huh, Kurosaki! Whatever it is, it's worse than pity, isn't it!_

_He didn't even_ look_ at me._

He stormed out of the scene, leaving rubble, fires and screams in his wake.

* * *

Elsewhere, Orihime and Ishida stopped in their tracks, mortified by the sudden rise in the Espada's reiatsu, then ran faster, panting and puffing because their legs wouldn't tolerate any more. "Inoue-san, go home. I'll find Kurosaki."

"But – Ishida-kun – "

"GO! Just GO, Inoue-san!" Seeing the shock in her eyes because of his abrupt command, his voice softened, and he added, "You must be really tired right now. Please, just go. I know you really want to defend Kurosaki, but please go. I'll use my Hirenkyaku to find him, don't worry."

She hesitated. The pain was obvious in her expression, and she seemed reluctant to leave, and as a parting message she whispered, "Ishida-kun…if you find Kurosaki-kun…please don't tell him about Grimmjow. I don't want him worried…" She trailed off, and turned around and ran back the other way.

Ishida paused for the tiniest moment, but understood exactly what she meant. He jumped on to the roof, frantically searching for Ichigo through Karakura Town. _Yeah, Inoue-san, I know what you mean._ Why did his reiatsu have to be so indistinct, like all the other humans… _Just don't get yourself into trouble, Kurosaki…!_

* * *

"Oniiiiiii-chan! Wake up!" Ichigo turned over in his bed a couple of times. Yuzu's voice in the morning was akin to an alarm for him, and he usually woke up on the dot even if Yuzu was a bit late in reminding him. Sitting up in his bed, he rubbed his eyes, stretched, and then walked out of the room. It was time to get ready for school.

As he was just leaving the house, he paused at the door and looked at the news on the TV. So there had been a huge gas leak somewhere in Karakura. A gas leak, yeah right, that totally explained the destroyed building at the site. Probably a Hollow, though Hollows usually didn't cause fires wherever they went. He was mildly intrigued though, because that street looked exactly like the one…he was walking in…yesterday…damn. Come to think of it, some strange soul was pestering him there. Did he piss someone off? Oh god. He sincerely hoped no one was hurt in the damage. He didn't know what to think. Who could it have been?

It could have also entirely been a coincidence. "Ichi-nii, you'll be late for school," Karin's voice piped up from behind him, as she brushed past his arm, leaving for school herself. "Yeah, Karin, I'm just leaving. See ya." He had to admit, he was slightly shaken, and his steps towards school were uncertain. Wasn't there any Shinigami in town to perform a simple Konso? They could at least send one every day, jeez, if this was the supposed town of major spiritual concentration. What even was Imoyama-san doing?

There was a hollow feeling in his stomach which vanished as soon as it came. He didn't stop to think about what it was; rather, he didn't want to.

Bag in hand, he set off for school, taking in the sights and sounds around him. The sights and sounds perceptible by his senses were now just the same sights and sounds normal people sensed. Was it an improvement? _Just go away._ He tried to shake the unwelcome thoughts out of his head.

There was this little clearing he passed by on his way to school. Sometimes when he left home early, he liked to stop there and reflect for a while. He was probably two minutes away from it right now; maybe he'd go and think about what he saw on the news. At least, he thought he would, until he heard a shrill scream. In that direction.

His reflexes automatically pushed him into a sprint, and he reached the clearing in no time. The little shrubs that usually grew on the sides had been trampled down, and a couple of trees were on the verge of falling down. In the centre of that scene was a little boy, perhaps in kindergarten, pinned down to the ground by god knows what, wailing and screaming for help. _Hollow. Shit! Why now? _He decided to call Ishida to the spot; pulling out his cell phone, he selected his name from the list of contacts.

His cell phone was off. _Damn, he's in school right now._

He ran to the boy, but wasn't really sure of his course of action, so he braced himself for the impact and kicked in the direction of the Hollow. Almost immediately, the invisible hand let free. He dragged the boy up by his arm and yelled, "Run, just leave!" The boy panted, face full of terror, and fled the place, tears streaming down his face. _Good – oh shit! _The hand that grasped the boy now picked Ichigo up, and he cursed in frustration, trying to pry off the gigantic claw-like appendage that held him tight. Finding it useless, his breath running out, he punched the hand with all his might, and fell almost immediately to the ground. His shoulder was bruised, apparently, but he'd get Orihime to do something about that.

He didn't so much as get a few seconds' worth of air as the Hollow snatched him up again. There was a blast of wind to his face, and he assumed it had roared at him. This time though, it was going for a different approach; it smashed him to the ground. He screamed. He didn't have the normal Shinigami endurance anymore, and this was excruciatingly painful. _You freaking – _He mustered any strength he had left into a run.

That wasn't any use either. It lumbered towards him; he rolled beneath it and hid behind a rock. _Damn, it will really get me this time if I don't think of something… _He yelled. As loud as he could, he yelled, and ran into the trees. The Hollow followed him, a gust of wind almost knocking Ichigo down. As it meandered pointlessly in his direction, he was hiding behind a tree, and quickly reversed direction, running back into the clearing, and away. It would hopefully buy him a few seconds, until the Hollow realized his reiatsu was fleeing in the other direction. There was a sudden roar. _Guess it realized. _As much as his legs could manage, he ran. Ran as fast as he could with a hurting ankle. He definitely needed to tell Inoue. He would when he reached school.

The Hollow was a little too fast for him though. Almost immediately, it was at his back, and he felt a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach as its hand seized him again. This time, he wouldn't be able to escape. He steeled himself for what would happen next.

There was a whoosh of air, and he felt himself fall to the ground again. The grass beneath him rustled as something probably fell on it with a heavy thud.

Then there was silence.

Was the Hollow gone?

* * *

Grimmjow snorted in disbelief. So this was what the great Ichigo Kurosaki had been reduced to, a worthless human running from a low-level Hollow like his life depended on it. His sword glistened with dark blood; he shook most of it off and sheathed it. The Hollow lay lifeless at his feet.

It had been the biggest surprise when he had decided to scout around Karakura just for the hell of it, after having calmed himself down back in Hueco Mundo yesterday. The outrage was still there in him, but now it was morphing into a form of amusement, watching Kurosaki go about his daily life like the powerless human he was. What the hell had happened to him? Had he traded in his Shinigami powers? He certainly didn't expect that from the Kurosaki who had fought him that day with so much determination he felt his reiatsu burn with it.

And today he was nothing. He even had to defeat the Hollow for him. He looked at him stand up in disbelief, dust off his pants and flex his muscles, probably checking if any bones were broken. _Heh._

Kurosaki looked around unsteadily as he set off down the road at a run. Grimmjow laughed. This was so amazing; he was having the best fun watching Kurosaki as a human. Maybe he'd just continue for a while, until perhaps Kurosaki regained some sense to realize who it was.

* * *

Ichigo panted as he reached the school compound. He could feel the strain in his muscles, and he looked a mess. If he walked in like this, heads would turn and eyes would widen unnecessarily. More than that, he would be useless for the whole day. He pulled out his cell phone – which was luckily quite safe, albeit dented – and sent a text to Inoue. He hoped she wouldn't have switched her phone off.

A few minutes later, he received a reply saying she'd find some way to get down there as fast as she could. Around five minutes after that, she was there, rushing towards him with a worried expression on his face. "Kurosaki-kun! Are you alright? Oh my god, what happened to you?"

"Hollow," he replied, with gritted teeth. "Where's Ishida? Why didn't he get rid of it?" Inoue started a Souten Kisshun around him as he replied, "Kurosaki-kun…Ishida-kun had left a while ago to kill a few of them on the other side of town. Maybe he was just getting to you when – when – " She didn't continue. He pressed her, "When what?"

She didn't want to say that the Hollow died when she felt Grimmjow's reiatsu reach there. "Uh, when the Hollow's reiatsu disappeared on its own, Kurosaki-kun, um, but see, you're healed! Let's get back to class!" She smiled cheerily, and he tested his joints. They were fine. "Thanks, Inoue." A niggling doubt still was ingrained his mind, but he decided to think about it later and face Ochi-sensei first. He was late by an hour.

_Something's different._

* * *

School was out. He didn't even have any work today, because that shrew of a boss was going to be taking Kaoru to the doctor. He wondered what he'd do. Maybe play some Tekken, or throw stones in the river.

"Yo, Kurosaki!" He turned around, trying to identify the source of the voice. It was some guys from the school karate club. He walked over and asked what they wanted. They brandished a poster. 'Annual Karate Club Meet'.

He eyed it for a moment. "So? What am I supposed to do with this?"

The guy in front of him fidgeted with his pudgy fingers. "Well, you know – we're one contestant short. And Arisawa is on leave for most of this week." He vaguely recalled Tatsuki telling him something about a small trip she was going on yesterday evening. "So? Don't tell me you want me to join." He folded his arms in denial.

"It would be a great favor, Kurosaki!" He said this deliberately loudly. A couple of people joined him in his request, and even Keigo who was waiting for him egged him on saying, "Ichigo! Ichigo! You should go for this, you'll totally win!" His face was enthusiastic.

"No way," he responded flatly.

"Please, Kurosaki!" "We can't postpone the meet!" "Kurosaki, come on, you're good enough to be part of the club anyway!" "Hey, hey, Ichigo, just go already!"

He sighed impatiently. Anyway, he was free that afternoon. "Fine, whatever." There was a cheer as the karate club leader announced the start of the meet.

His friends bid him goodbye as they all went home, either having work to go to or having to study. He saw Inoue, Ishida, Keigo and Mizuiro and waved in response to their goodbyes. Chad had been at home ill for the past two days; he hoped it was nothing serious.

Ichigo stood by the sidelines in the karate club's room, waiting for his turn to be called. _Man, this is going to be boring. But I was bored anyway._ It was nearly a whole twenty minutes before his name was called for him to spar with a tall guy he barely knew. He walked over and everyone sitting watched expectantly.

* * *

He watched, amused, as Kurosaki literally served that worthless guy. For a powerless human, he wasn't so bad. He felt almost proud to have fought him. But he wouldn't ever admit that to himself.

There was much talking in the sidelines as Kurosaki was declared as the first person in the meet to have beat the other guy, who sat back down, the shame evident on his crestfallen face.

Grimmjow saw Kurosaki's face, which had the expression, 'yeah, what next'.

He wasn't so bad after all. He was really getting a kick out of watching him and his pathetic little life unfold. Something flashed in his mind for an instant, but vanished as soon as he tried to register what sort of thought it was. It felt like a distant, distant memory…

Whatever it was, it only made him want to watch the rest of the tournament and see if Kurosaki won or lost.

The result, after an hour and a half, was obvious. He threw his head back and laughed, and a few people turned to see who that sound came from.

_Good job, Kurosaki_. He watched him receive the golden trophy, and felt almost smug. The Kurosaki with the fire in his eyes – this was the Kurosaki he knew, the Kurosaki he appreciated as a worthy opponent.

* * *

Ichigo walked home, bag in one hand and trophy in the other, almost surprised at himself. He'd gotten this because he was bored and did something to pass the time. _Wow_. He had given his best, though, so he probably deserved it anyway.

There was a hard thunk on the back of his head, and he grunted with pain as his knees gave way and his mouth tasted dust. The trophy clattered to the ground. He rubbed the back of his head tentatively and felt blood. A rock lay next to him, stained dark red. _Bastards, whoever had done that._

He spat out the dust in his mouth and turned around. It was a bunch of guys from the karate club, and they looked far from happy; their face bore the convoluted expression that was a mixture of humiliation and rage. The expression that he had seen on them when he had defeated them to win the matches, only intensified several times.

"You bastards, what do you want?" They merely smirked in response.

* * *

**A/N:** **That brings us to the end of the second chapter, what do you guys think? What's going to happen to Ichigo?**

**Please, please review! Any feedback is appreciated.**


	3. Anacampserote

**A/N**: **Significantly shorter chapter than the last one…but I think the second one might have been too long anyway .**

**I hope you guys enjoy.**

* * *

**Protector  
Chapter 3: Anacampserote**

"Kurosaki, let's see how good at karate you are now." A fist came towards his face, and he instinctively caught it, lifted himself from the ground and kicked the guy before him, all in a few seconds. If the others were stunned, they didn't show it. The rest of them charged at him with unhidden ferocity; he sidestepped the first, punched the second, and caught the third in a lock. The first guy came at him from the back, so he pushed the third guy down, heard him scream and kicked the first. The second picked up Ichigo's bag and beat his head with it; he blocked it and swiveled around to kick him in the face.

He wasn't prepared for his own trophy swinging in to his shoulder, wielded by the leader like a club. The sharp end cut through to his skin and stained his shirt with fresh blood. He clutched his shoulder, pushed the trophy away and cursed. _Damn! Why is today so – so out of my control!_

_I'll get these bastards._

He got two of them in a single blow, and twisted the third's leg back. The first two ran away, and the third couldn't so much as move; Ichigo was pretty sure he had at least injured the guy's ligament. The leader charged at him at the same time, and Ichigo kicked him in the crotch, not interested in restraining himself anymore. His shoulder muscles were almost crying.

He wasn't prepared, though, for the rock to hit him a second time, exactly on the shoulder where the trophy had cut him. He lost control of that arm, and it fell limp for a minute as the pain coursed through him like the waves rushing to the shore on a windy day – sudden, and repetitive. The guy with the hurt knee sighed, relaxing himself, trying to pick himself up and attack one last time.

Ichigo remained there on one knee, trying to make the blood stop flowing. There wasn't a single person on the street to help. Everything seemed to be going so wrong today. He raised his other arm to block the guy's kick, but it was futile –

The guy fell with a scream of pure agony, the blood flowing from his head as something pushed him down with a force greater than anything he could ever imagined. The leader of the group got only a moment's notice as he felt a force comparable to a speeding truck hit him in the face. He flew across the street with a yell of pain and landed on the wall on the opposite side, and everything went black for him as he slumped over.

Ichigo blinked furiously, trying to make sense of what had just happened. A rough hand, one he couldn't see, dragged him up by the unhurt shoulder and shoved him. "What the hell!" He screamed furiously, stumbling backwards.

* * *

_Don't touch _my_ prey._ He snarled.

As he saw the weak little things fall to the ground, he turned on Kurosaki and pushed him backward. "I can't keep saving your sorry ass all the fucking time, Kurosaki!" He was genuinely angry. What the hell had come over him? Sure, he fought well and all, but he lacked any of the speed and power he had possessed in his fight with him.

Had he really become that weak?

He was useless now! A fucking doll was all he was. And he still went and saved him; he shouldn't have even bothered.

There was a torrent of negative emotions raging throughout him, and he departed in a huff.

* * *

"Hey! Whoever you are, stop! Wait!" His voice was coarse, and every word grated at his throat. Damn it. That hand was oddly familiar…like the hand that had grabbed him yesterday, perhaps? And, something else…something else. That hand was one he knew, a one that ignited something akin to a flame within him. The flame of passion and determination, of wanting to fight and improve himself. That hand was almost nostalgic, and he hated it for that. He didn't desire any nostalgia anymore.

He didn't know what to do. As he slowly gathered up his things and walked back home, he was assailed with a paralyzing feeling of _incompetence_. He had failed. He had never once imagined that he would have to be saved so many times. This mystery soul must have been the one who saved him from the Hollow this morning too. _I'm so powerless_. The feeling shook him like no other, and he could feel his head throb with both physical as well as mental pain. He wanted out, wanted to be free from these shackles tying him down to the ground and preventing him from protecting anyone.

_I've always wanted to protect everyone, and I can't even protect myself. I'm pathetic!_

This feeling was nostalgic too. He didn't want to be reminded anymore of the life he had once led. Everything was raging in his head, so swirling, so intertwined, so utterly confusing, that he didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to worry, he didn't want to wonder who his savior was, and he didn't want to wrestle with feelings of inadequacy.

Sometimes it was easier not to feel anything at all. But he had never been that way.

And if he couldn't feel anything, he wouldn't be able to protect anyone efficiently.

What he needed was power. He wanted the power to protect once more, and he didn't know how to get it.

* * *

The next morning, walking to school, he was subdued. There was no distraction of any sort; no Hollow, no sudden attacks by people from his school – it was as quiet as it could be, and he was as alone as he could get. He hated it. He was glad his friends didn't know about what had happened – the wound on his shoulder, now patched up by his dad, winced in reminder. If anything, he wanted them to be able to believe in him.

Today, he had put some of his turmoil to rest, and began to wonder who it was who saved him yesterday. If anything, they were a familiar figure, but then, a lot of souls were familiar to him. He wondered if it was a Shinigami; that would be the most plausible option…but the feel of that hand, he didn't know which Shinigami it could be. Not Imoyama-san, definitely not Rukia. Actually, he wasn't sure it could be anyone of them. None of them would shove him when he was hurt. Maybe playfully, but not so roughly. None of them would bother him after he had lost his powers; all of them clearly knew that and would probably not want to rub it into his face.

Besides, that hand…felt different. It was like the answer was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn't grasp it. He _knew_ that hand. He had to know that hand. It was so familiar…

If it really was a hand he knew, then perhaps, he had let that one person down. Everyone he knew was aware of his constant affirmations to 'protect'. He couldn't so much as protect himself. If he had to be honest with himself, he felt a deep sense of shame, of humiliation.

Somehow, that feeling reminded him of that hand again. He made a mental note – this hand is associated with the feelings of shame and humiliation. How it was associated was still an unsolved question, but he'd get to that soon. Or so he hoped.

He walked down the corridor to class. Someone walking in the opposite direction nudged his arm and congratulated him for the victory in yesterday's karate meet, but he wasn't gratified, because the very memory was something he'd like to avoid bringing up again.

His pace was slow, his gaze away from them deliberate, as he passed his friends talking. Chad was back in school today, and Ishida was surprisingly without a book before class started; he was usually always reading. He noted from the corner of his eye that the two of them were talking to a worried-looking Inoue. Why was she worried? He flicked his eyes towards her, and heard her whisper something indistinct, and a name.

"…Grimmjow…"

Grimmjow? That guy, who he'd fought in Hueco Mundo. Was he still alive? He recalled protecting him from the tall Espada…Nnoitra. Grimmjow wasn't dead even then. Why were they talking about someone who hadn't crossed his thoughts in such a long while?

Okay, maybe that was a lie. He had crossed his thoughts _some_ times. When he reminisced on all the fights he had had once. He was, by far, one of the most interesting people he had fought that time, the one he felt he could understand best. Like they were on the same level, but on two different sides. I _fought Grimmjow. Why aren't they telling _me_?_ He casually tried to listen to snatches of what Inoue was saying to them.

"…please don't tell Kurosaki-kun that….Grimmjow…. here … worried … doesn't … his powers…" Chad nodded once in agreement to her statement, and Ishida added quietly, "He…save…Hollow… remember the reiatsu…that day…looking…Kurosaki…"

Ichigo was in a state of shock. Disbelief. What were his friends saying? He walked away exactly as Inoue lifted her gaze to see if anyone was listening, and didn't notice him at all.

Grimmjow. He couldn't believe it. Could it be he who saved him? Ridiculous, they had got to be kidding. Grimmjow was in Hueco Mundo, right?

How could he say that? He couldn't even sense people's reiatsu anymore. Grimmjow could be here, in Karakura Town. Maybe even in front of him, right now. No, Inoue and the others would have sniffed him out then. Why would Grimmjow protect him, though? He thought Grimmjow loathed him. That was how he had acted towards him. Absolute loathing, and lots of pride.

But that hand. The hand came back to his thoughts again. That hand, now that he thought about it, fit Grimmjow's description very well. Rough, aggressive, sudden. Shame and humiliation – those feelings that he was reminded of – they made sense too. Grimmjow had felt so completely humiliated that day, he could sense it present in his weakening reiatsu, see it drip from him with every drop of blood that his wounds oozed.

He felt sorry for him. What was he doing now?

For the second time that day, he desperately wished he was able to get his powers back again. _Or at least see him. Say a simple thank you._

Grimmjow. The name didn't leave his mind through the entire school day. He wondered if he was there, somewhere close by. He wondered why no one had attacked him. Ishida's dad, Urahara-san…no one had attacked. Maybe they wanted to wait and watch what would happen. Maybe it was because Grimmjow hadn't caused much harm yet. _Ha, what about the 'gas leak'. Guess it really isn't a gas leak anymore. _It was odd. Why didn't they consider him a threat yet? Hadn't he caused damage to the city?

_Dad obviously doesn't know; he's out of town. Right. Hey, wait, didn't Ishida say his dad had gone with mine? Oh yeah, that big meeting thing for doctors. Damn, I forgot. Guess that's why he didn't know about Gr…let me not say his name. _Fuck_, this is really odd._

Somehow, he thought that – not attacking, that is – a good decision and he didn't know why. When he walked home from school, he had the strangest new feeling poking its way through his mind, and he decided to trust that it was a good one. It felt _welcome_. For most of the day, the blue-haired Arrancar's name had been a lingering presence in the corner of his mind, and saying it to himself gave him a pleasantly funny feeling in his stomach. That was new; he hadn't ever felt that before, and he didn't know what it was.

He didn't know what to associate it with, of course, but you and I would have called it 'butterflies'.

* * *

**A/N**: **I…kinda changed the narration style in that last sentence, I guess, but I just felt like it :3 Poor Ichigo, he's never been in love before. **

**Please, please review! This is the first time I've written GrimmIchi.**


	4. Anamnesis

**A/N:** **I'm so laaaaaate with this…**

**I HAD A LOT ON MY HEAD, OKAY? **

**Anyway, enjoy =)**

* * *

**Protector  
Chapter 4: Anamnesis**

It was an eerily silent night, the sky cloudless and midnight blue, faint stars twinkling for those who cared to observe the heavens above. The wind was occasional and hot; most people wouldn't take long walks on nights like this one. A summer night, perfect for staying inside and watching movies, or in this Espada's case, relaxing on a roof and, very unusually, contemplating his life and the people in it.

Grimmjow wasn't usually the sort to waste a balmy night such as this one on a nondescript roof, watching his surroundings almost glumly. He didn't notice it in himself, of course, that this was highly uncharacteristic of him and something probably entirely pointless. It just so happened…that he had a lot to process. And when that happened, his sharp observational skills and cool logic gave into swirling emotion and heady intuition. Tonight was one of those nights.

His brow was creased, and the two sharp blue eyebrows nearly met at the center as the gears in his head turned quickly. He wasn't one to remember things too easily, and it was almost a struggle to grasp that little fragment deep within his subconscious. Something told him – perhaps it was the intuition – that it was important. For the first time in several hundred years, this carefully locked away piece of crucial information was beginning to peep out of a crack in the aging door. He tugged and tugged and kicked and shot Ceros, but even for his superhuman strength, the door never relented. The annoyance in him was beginning to build; he was losing patience. He knew if he lost his patience he would lose the memory, and a tiny part within him wouldn't allow for the loss of this valuable treasure, if it could be called that.

Finally he snapped, and growled impatiently. The snarl still etched on his face, he rose into the air forcefully, cracks appearing on the floor of the roof. He couldn't wait so long for some piece of shit memory that happened to have materialized in his mind when he was watching Kurosaki fight at school. It probably had something to do with his many fights with him – nothing he didn't know. _What a fucking waste of time. _His sickening orange hair, brown eyes and_…oh._

It was beginning to dawn on him now, and he forced himself to think about the infuriatingly addictive carrot-top as the little pieces of the puzzle pieced themselves together neatly in his head, and bit by bit, the memory formed itself, a vivid recollection of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez's past. A tidal wave of nostalgia and remembrance swept right over him, and he was stunned by the revelations he was offered – by his human life.

Yes, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had once been a puny human. He was disgusted by his absolute lack of power then, but even then he was pretty strong by human standards, at least. The creases in his forehead from concentrating began to ease as the memory washed over him in its wholeness, its sights and sounds and smells tingling something long dead, but something which was still hovering in his soul. Almost immediately he felt a sharp, jolting pain in his chest region – sharp even considering his endurance as an Espada, and instinctively he clutched the area in annoyance, feeling the constriction tighten for one painful second and then disappear completely. He felt as a traveler in a desert would when he drunk the sweet water of an oasis, his insides singing in relief.

_What the hell was that?_

Anything that had been in his mind had disappeared after the episode. An episode he had never once experienced in his entire existence as Grimmjow. Not as a human, not as a Hollow, not as Arrancar #12, not as the Sexta Espada. It wasn't long before it all began to reappear in bits and pieces, lazily reforming itself in his mind. He waited cautiously for the stab of pain, but nothing happened. He closed his eyes; it felt like diving into a pool of lukewarm water. Inside the pool was a whirlwind of sensations that slowed down when they entered, and drifted around him, engulfing him, embracing him.

* * *

_Embracing..._

_The warmth of the person who held him in his arms was all he felt. "I missed you, you idiot." The man sounded relieved, and nuzzled his head into Grimmjow's neck, the hairs on the back of which were prickling as a rush of satisfaction spread through his tired body. His voice, when he replied to his boyfriend, was uncharacteristically low. "And here I've been gone only for some days." As an afterthought, he chuckled, to lighten the mood. The smaller male gripped his shirt tighter and whispered. "Three weeks without telling me anything. Why do you get into these fights, Grimm?"_

_He wanted to say, "I win anyway, and it's good fun," but he knew the reaction he would get, and he didn't want to scare him. "It's nothing," he finally replied, trying to answer as vaguely as possible, only to feel the hands on his back move to his chest, soft brown eyes looking deep into his soul. "Grimm, how many times do I have to say this? I don't want you to – to –"_

_He grinned. "I'm too strong for these guys, ******. Don't worry about shit like that." Stepping away from him, he walked over to the sofa and threw himself on it. "C'mere," he said, lowering his voice into one intended to be seductive. It didn't come off as well as he thought it would when he coughed and clutched his side, blood staining the fabric of his clothes._

"_Fuck, Grimmjow! Is it that bad?"_

_Holy shit, he had managed to stress him out. Now he'd get all paranoid. "Shut up ******, it's nothing, just –" _

_But the oranget had sprinted off, and returned in a few minutes with an armful of medical supplies. "Don't move, Grimmjow. What the fuck were you thinking, huh? Do you make it your life's mission to traumatize me?" He had begun dabbing at Grimmjow's wounds with something wet, eliciting a sigh from him. "Seriously, what the hell…what the hell is your problem. God, Grimm! You make me so angry sometimes!" He threw the towel down and glared at the floor, as if he was trying to suppress something, then picked up the towel and angrily mopped up the blood again. "Get that shirt off so I can clean you up!" Grimmjow obliged, at a loss for words. He really didn't know what to do to calm him down. If only ****** understood he really was fine. _

_And he was. He hadn't ever come across anyone with as much endurance as he possessed. There was always a part of him, like a raging panther, jumping and tearing through walls. He needed strength. It was intoxicating to fight like that, to feel the exertion and the sweat and the blood dripping off his skin – that was something he called pleasure in its raw form. The thrill of evading an attack, the satisfaction in dealing one back, the laugh that pulled at his lips when it landed. All those were things he knew his soul thirsted for, like a panther after his prey. _

"_M-Maybe you should d-dye your hair black, Gr-Grimm. Blue d-d-draws too much attention anyway." He seemed to be wiping his eyes on his sleeve before he resumed. Grimmjow blinked in disbelief, and when he spoke, his throat grated. "Damn, ******, are you…crying?"_

"'_C-Course not, didn't I t-tell you n-not to say any-anything?" _

"…_no."_

"_Just s-shut up."_

"_Look, ******, I'm sorry, okay! I didn't know you were this emotional, but for fuck's sake, I'm alright and nothing's. Going. To. Happen. Okay?" He received no response and only then realized he was shaking him by the shoulders. His unshed tears glistened on his eyelashes, his eyes wide, and he said nothing, before regaining his composure, detaching himself from Grimmjow's grip and storming away. "Fine!" he yelled, from the kitchen counter. "Do what you like, you goddamned idiot." He walked back and slammed a plate on the coffee table. "Eat."_

_Then he was gone. Up to the bedroom, presumably. Grimmjow exhaled in frustration._

* * *

"Damn…" His head hurt, feeling the memories weigh upon him like they had a physical presence.

He certainly hadn't expected all that to come back to him in such vivid detail. He wondered why exactly it was that memory that stood out for him, when there were so many others. Maybe they would come to him later, but for now there was only one thing that pressed him. It was confusing. It couldn't be. It was senseless. It was inexplicable.

He didn't even remember that guy's name. Perhaps it was just the orange hair, brown eyes and emotion-driven personality that was similar between his former boyfriend and Kurosaki. Perhaps it was just those aspects of both of them.

But that didn't explain how he had been drawn to him the moment he had heard of him. He did want to rip him into shreds, yeah. But it was like…now that he was coming to terms with it…he was being pulled towards Kurosaki as a stone is pulled towards the earth. There was a force between them, and it wasn't the repulsive sort.

He didn't know whether or not to feel disgusted by that. By the fact that the force may well be because of the fact that someone just like Kurosaki was someone he used to love, long ago.

Was that why he felt a need to leave these emotions behind and fly off the roof? Like he needed thinking space, and all this was ridiculous anyway? Like he needed to see Kurosaki's face at least once before going back to Hueco Mundo for the night?

* * *

[Earlier in the day, but not too much]

Yuzu didn't fail to notice the unusual expression on her brother's face as he shut the door. "Onii-chan, is everything alright?" Ichigo was jolted out of his reverie by her shrill voice and hastily reformed his features into a smile as he walked past her, up the stairs. "Yeah, Yuzu, don't worry." As if she would get misled by that smile, the one he always gave her when he was worried about something or thinking really hard. She was in a half a mind to run upstairs and ask him if everything was really alright, but then Karin's voice floated from the direction of the sofa and she ran over to her to ask her why she called.

Yuzu's perception of Ichigo wasn't far off the mark – as soon as he had left school his thoughts had strayed to the blue-haired Arrancar instead, and now he was thoroughly frustrated with his mind for being so disobedient and distracted. These thoughts sparked feelings in him, feelings he couldn't explain even to himself, feelings that, deep down, he knew he didn't want to stop experiencing as they caused a pleasant tingling all the way down to his toes. They were the sort of feelings he wanted to get rid of, but also explore and try to understand. As a result of which his thoughts were a complete mess, a room full of all-too-colorful balloons that he wanted to push away, but also play with.

He ran a hand through his hair after dropping his bag on the floor, and began to change his clothes. If he had to remain sane, he had to put these intruding thoughts out of his mind and concentrate on his life, which was devoid of spirits anyway. He had been thrown out of their world as soon as he had used Mugetsu all those months ago.

All through dinner he was quite subdued. Neither Yuzu nor Karin so much as questioned him; they were familiar with how he used to brood over things sometimes for no apparent reason. It wasn't like Karin hadn't noticed that an extremely powerful reiatsu was beginning to appear from time to time in Karakura Town (a reiatsu she thought was quite familiar, but couldn't be sure of), but she said nothing of it because days had passed and the person possessing it hadn't caused them any harm. If they weren't a threat, she didn't care.

Every now and then he asked something trivial, like whether they had finished their homework or how school was. Their responses were clipped, and it came to him that he was being unusually distant and projecting that onto them, which was why they were reacting so cautiously. He tried to make light conversation, but that probably came off as unnatural as well, and he quietly climbed the stairs back to his room after dinner. There was something bringing him down, and he had to identify that feeling and come to terms with it.

He wasn't quite sure what to do then. He didn't have any school work to do, and he needed a distraction, so he picked up a book analyzing Shakespeare's plays and immersed himself in it for the better part of an hour, by which time he had finished reading it and didn't know what to do again. He still felt very awake.

Maybe it was time to deal with the more pressing issue on his mind.

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling as he lay on the bed, but his mind was elsewhere. It slowly drifted over to a mental picture of Grimmjow as he was when he first came to Karakura Town. So, according to Inoue and Ishida, Grimmjow was back in Karakura Town. For some reason, he didn't find that very hard to accept, even though he knew he had been very grievously injured in Hueco Mundo; he had probably recovered spectacularly.

Almost inadvertently, he found himself wondering _What does he look like now? _The sudden shift of thought embarrassed him, and he knew by the tingling in his cheeks that the blood had rushed there, and felt suddenly very glad he was all alone in that room with only his thoughts to accompany him.

So why would Grimmjow even come here – unless – oh no. Another quick thought shift, and he felt disgust and shame pool in the pit of his belly as he realized the only reason, the only person for whom he could be here was Ichigo himself. He felt sickened by the thought. Here he was, seventeen months after it all got over, with no powers, unable to protect his friends from…from…anything. It felt horrible to know that even after he had lost his Shinigami powers, he was still a magnet for battle and destruction. The one solace, indeed, in losing his powers was that he didn't have to attract enemies anymore, but here he was, virtually powerless, still with an insane Espada on his tail.

Maybe not _really_ insane, though. The look in his eyes when Zangetsu cut through his Desgarron and lodged itself in his chest was one he would never forget. It was the same look he later gave when he caught his arm and told him to end the fight. The look that perhaps, he would have never shown unless he was truly vulnerable.

It was a look that Ichigo would have felt uncomfortable seeing no matter who it came from, but when it looked at him from piercing blue eyes that shone of pride and dignity, the discomfort was worse.

_I hope he's okay._

It was something he knew he fully felt with all his heart, and it wasn't pity, even if Grimmjow thought it was. It was genuine concern. Grimmjow had been the one opponent in Hueco Mundo whose defeat had wrenched at his heartstrings, because Ichigo could understand him the best. True, Ulquiorra's inherent aura of negativity had affected him for a while, but with Grimmjow, it was different. It wasn't negativity so much as it was a sort of pain, like he was actually alright but had gone wrong somewhere.

He wondered what made him feel that way about him. He was a psychotic killer after all; the memory of how he punched Rukia still made his forehead crease in anger. The way he was about to choke Orihime still made him wince in frustration. But he supposed those few moments towards the end of the fight, when Grimmjow lost his composure for a while and let his insecurity show – something Ichigo did not miss – endeared Ichigo to him. Maybe not endeared, but he could empathize.

He felt a little sunken, a little helpless, after going through so many emotions, and he just lay there for a few minutes, an empty shell, waiting to regain his floating mind.

What came to him after those few minutes was his logic…why did he even bother so much about Grimmjow anyway? It was true he really could understand his feelings, and it was true that he also made him feel something else that he would have decided to relegate to the realm of the inexplicable, except that he felt drawn to that emotion. It was addictive; pleasing even. He wanted to continue feeling, experiencing that emotion as much as he could, because he had never experienced anything of the kind before.

Then it hit him as hard as one of Karin's soccer balls speeding towards the goal. It was revelatory, and every bit as unpleasant and throbbing as a hit from a ball she kicked would feel.

Could he be…_attracted _to him?

Even posing the very question in his mind made him feel a little repulsed.

True, for a long time now, he had reconciled with himself that he was attracted to guys. It wasn't something he told anyone, because there was no need to. He occasionally felt a pang of interest when someone exceptionally handsome was on the streets, but often he was so absorbed in his thoughts he never really paid attention. It felt rather weird, then, when sometimes girls tagged behind him after school, trying to follow him home or talk to him. (It came as no surprise that since the first of those incidents, he knew several different ways to reach home from school.) It also felt a bit silly when some people talked about him and Orihime as a couple. She was a dear friend and he felt protective of her, but he wasn't interested in women as such. He was pretty sure of that.

Often, he wasn't predisposed to checking out the men he was fighting, because obviously he had to defend himself and win the fight and other requirements like that, but he remembered with some amusement how Grimmjow's casual attractiveness on his first appearance had slapped him in the face – and he didn't even know what that meant until he went through his whole life after Aizen's defeat and realized he was plainly attracted to men. At that time, Grimmjow's attractiveness levels were something he had forgotten to ponder, but now he began to come to terms with them…

Come to terms with them – yeah right! How could he forgive himself for harboring such feelings for someone who tried to kill the people he cared for? Was he really that shallow, to fall for someone whose murderous soul was masked by an enticing physique? He was a mature individual, damn it, not some swooning heroine like in those dumb movies. He at least had the ability to restrict his feelings to rational amounts.

_**Or so you think**_, a tiny voice in his head spoke up.

_Shut up. I don't need your bullshit._

_**This isn't bullshit. What's bullshit is how you're tricking yourself that you're a very rational person. Really, Ichigo?**_

_Of course I am, what the fuck do you know?_

_**What are you saying? I am you. Don't lie to yourself.**_

_Oh god…so are you telling me I really am into this…this Hollow who tried to ruin my life and kill me?_

_**Yeah, I guess so.**_

He could rapidly visualize a different Ichigo hovering over his form, looking at him calmly and seriously. This Ichigo didn't have a frown on his face, was giving hints of breaking out into laughter at his predicament, and had his arms folded across his chest most casually and very judgementally.

_**So, Ichigo…**_

_Yeah. _

The other Ichigo shrugged. _**Just do what you feel best, you know? Sometimes logic won't help you everywhere.**_

He frowned even more and looked out the window. _Easy for you to say. You just analyze stuff after it's over._

There was a grin on the other Ichigo's face. _**What do you think then? If you date this guy, he'll murder everyone while you're asleep? Come on.**_

He stared back at the creation of his mind and laughed mirthlessly. _Date? Ha! He's a Hollow. They don't love or care or anything._

The other Ichigo receded in surprise. _**Wow, that was quick. You've already gone from reluctant to wishful. Hoping for a nice, cute relationship or something? Why don't you figure out how to get him to think you are attractive first? Relationships involve two parties, you know.**_

Ichigo balked, trying to get a grip of the situation. _I don't need your shit. Just shut up._

The other Ichigo shrugged again. _**I can't. I'm you. How do you tell yourself to shut up?**_

_I don't need…_love_…lessons from myself._

Other-Ichigo laughed at Ichigo._** Okay, then, do you want lessons on how to get into his pants?**_

Ichigo blushed so hard that the voice in his head automatically vanished. He sat up and took a long, deep breath; opened the window for some fresh air, and then slapped himself in the face, relishing the stinging pain.

This was it. He was going to rein in his freewheeling emotions before they got out of hand. Ichigo was a human, Grimmjow was an Espada (he didn't know if he still held that title, but who cared anyway), and they were not fit for each other no matter how attractive he found him and how deep his voice was and how his hair always looked so amazing and how endless his eyes were.

_**But he did save you. Doesn't that mean he…cares?**_ Other-Ichigo said in a small, scared voice.

_Didn't I tell you to get lost? No, I didn't, but get lost anyway! He just wants to fight me in a proper condition, that's all._

This was the root problem. He should have had his powers. Then he wouldn't have thought of him as anything more than an enemy. He would have defeated him and protected everyone, and most importantly, his own sanity. None of this attractiveness bullshit would have mattered anything.

It was entirely his fault. He could have appealed to someone to talk to people in Soul Society and help him. He could have trained. No, he just sat around depressively whenever the subject of his powers was brought up. It was entirely his fault that Ishida had once come to school with head wounds, that Inoue wasn't able to write for a week, and Chad had to sit it out for a month when they played sports because of a knee injury. He had felt extremely guilty at that time when he realized they were trying to hide it from him that those were injuries by Hollows, but now all of it pounded at his head in a grand culmination of inadequacy. He was inadequate. _Weak_.

_Damn, damn, damn! Damn everything!_ He clenched his fists as tight as he could; wanting to scream, drawing blood from his palms. There could have been tears of frustration in his eyes. He stared out of his window at the skies for an answer, as if it would materialize before him.

He felt a sudden rush in his chest – an all-too-familiar feeling – and saw two electric blue eyes looking directly at his brown ones; a ripple in the air as a humanoid form began to materialize around those azure orbs that blinked, once, twice, as if in disbelief.

Without a moment's pause he knew who those eyes belonged to, whose form that was, and the shock caused the apparition (if he could call it that for now) to vanish from his view, and he screamed, "No! Grimmjow!" out of the window as a sudden breeze whipped his hair, everything was still, and he was alone with the stars and the moon on that warm night.

There was a sense of loss that he felt through his entire body, and he slumped back on to the bed as his eyes threatened to close, sleep heavily hanging over his eyelids.

_No, Grimmjow…wait. Don't go._

* * *

**A/N:**** I really feel sorry for Ichigo. He's so **_**dense**_** it's funny.**

**Ichigo is an IxFP and Grimmjow is an ESTP. Read up on those and you'll know why I characterized them the way I did. Bonus: You'll get to know that if he was a real person and not a destructive Arrancar, Grimmjow is extremely capable of charming your pants off you. That's how the ESTPs roll. ;)**

**This was a chapter I enjoyed writing and I hope you enjoyed it too. Please review to keep me going.**


	5. Gumusservi

**A/N****:** **I'm very grateful for all the positive responses I received for the last chapter! Thank you all. It is very motivating.**

**Did you ever wonder how Ichigo celebrated his 18****th**** birthday this year? Certainly not the way he expected to, but he probably didn't regret too much. **

* * *

**Protector  
Chapter 5: Gumusservi**

It had been a whole day since the 'Grimmjow incident', as Other-Ichigo affectionately called it. _**Totally out of one of those shoujo manga Ishida reads behind his textbooks**_, he had said, stifling laughs. Ichigo told him to shut up as he tried to finish his homework without his imaginary alter-ego butting in every few minutes. He felt like a child, having these imaginary friends to talk to. But he had had this guy forever. He was basically just an extension of his mind, with which he could conduct efficient conversations to sort out his own thoughts.

It was a Saturday, and it was his 18th birthday tomorrow. It wasn't like he cared much. Several people had special fantasies about the age 18, as if a gigantic golden door leading to all of life's sick pleasures would open up and they could prance in and lose themselves forever. Ichigo wasn't one of them. Being 18 only signified that he was a full man, and he had to take care of his own life. It was quite strange that none of his friends seemed to have any plans for tonight – they usually did on birthdays – but he admonished himself for expecting too much. After all, they probably had other priorities.

For perhaps the thirtieth time, he laid down his pen and leaned back in his chair, tilting it for as much as it could balance on two legs. Those azure eyes were blinking at him even now, judging him, beckoning him into a forbidden world where only the two of them existed. They had been branded in his mind with a red-hot iron, and he couldn't go anywhere without seeing them blink at him. It felt like a spirit was continuously following him wherever he went, seeking to torment him.

One thing was certain now: Grimmjow was the only person who could have saved him. While he normally would have only felt a combination of confusion and gratitude, this _new_ emotion – he preferred to call it that – ruined everything by making him unusually reminiscent, recalling all their fights in explicit detail and playing back every scene in his mind. He would catch himself absentmindedly worrying what Grimmjow felt about him, and a sick feeling rose in his stomach immediately afterwards. Obviously he was unsuccessful in trying to banish the thoughts from his mind; not even the famous Ichigo Kurosaki resolve was of any help. _**The famous Ichigo Kurosaki resolve only works when Ichigo Kurosaki **_**wants**_** to do something**_, Other-Ichigo sang, dancing around his chair. _**Ne, Ichigo. I don't think you honestly **_**want**_** to stop thinking about darling Grimmjow**_. His emphasis on the word 'want' resonated uncomfortably in his ears.

Ichigo's heart pounded furiously against his ribcage, because he knew what he had heard from his subconscious was completely true. His head sank onto the papers on his desk and he moaned angrily.

* * *

It was late in the evening and he was absolutely bored, with absolutely nothing to do. Yuzu was scuttling around the house frantically with a bundle of clothes in her arms, chiding Karin to do the same, while the latter patiently replied to each of her sister's remarks with a word or two from behind the tome. Beside her was a sleeping bag and a black bag – the two of them were going to stay over at their friend's house tonight and for most of tomorrow. Yuzu had been very apologetic about the whole situation, but she simply _had_ to go, it seemed. She asked him to check the kitchen for a cake, but not eat any of it today, so he was _only_ allowed to check it tomorrow.

She said all this extremely quickly, and when she was done, she smiled cheerfully – but Ichigo was more worried than amused because she seemed to be hiding something with great strain. Within a flash she dragged Karin out of the house, screamed a hasty goodbye and 'Happy Birthday' in advance – but she would still call him tomorrow, she promised – and slammed the door on Ichigo's face before either he or Karin could get a word out.

He had an inkling of what it was all about, but he didn't want to spoil it for his enthusiastic sister. He switched on the TV and changed channels listlessly, when he heard a great big buzzing near his door. Immediately, he stood up, dropped the remote and tightened the muscles of his arm – since losing his powers he had become extremely cautious towards any signs of Hollows. A moment later he would realize there was no cause for worry; the buzzing had become more distinctive, and seemed more like talking. He relaxed, and the muffled voices vanished as the doorbell rang, loud and clear.

He slowly walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. He could see Inoue, and he thought he caught a snatch of movement a few feet beside her, but he couldn't see that through the peephole. Funnily enough, she was wearing nearly the same expression Yuzu was. The key turned in the lock, his palm closed around the handle, and he gently pulled the door open.

"Inou – "

"SURPRIIIIIIIIIIIISE!"

He backed away a step at the sudden burst of voices. "What the – " A host of people – some of whom he recognized and some of whom he swarmed inside his house, probably the source of those muffled voices he heard earlier. What was going on? Through the whole thing, Inoue smiled brightly at him, bouncing on her toes. He couldn't allow people to storm into his house like that!

"YOU GUYS!" he yelled, as loudly as he could, and the whole group stopped in their tracks and turned to face him. A few of them were frowning. "It's not even my birthday today! What the hell is this!" He intended for the voice to be intimidating, and hoped his facial expression showed at least 10 percent of his irritation. Apparently it didn't, because over half the group laughed. From their midst, Keigo strode forward and clapped a hand on the bewildered Ichigo's shoulder.

"Ichigo! Don't get so tensed. It's your 18th birthday after all, so we thought we should celebrate all through the night! Seeing as your old man isn't here!" There were a few shouts of affirmation, and Keigo flashed Ichigo his most persuasive smile. Ichigo, irked by the turn of events, looked perplexedly at the auburn-haired girl, who blushed and said softly, "Well…Kurosaki-kun, he is right; it isn't so bad to enjoy yourself once in a while, is it?" Before he could offer a reply, there was a huge roar and everyone scattered all around the house, setting up streamers and balloons, pulling up chairs, trying to switch on some music.

There was only so much he could tolerate, and he opened his mouth to scream again, when Ishida silently came from behind him, pushed his glasses up his nose and gave him a hard look. "Kurosaki. Don't mess up this party; we've been planning it for weeks." Ichigo was mildly incredulous; _Ishida_ would want to plan such a party?

Inoue butted in and quickly said, "Kurosaki-kun, we all wanted you to have some fun and loosen up…you've been looking so down in the dumps lately that we thought a big party for your birthday would cheer you up loads!" She giggled. "Don't worry, Kurosaki-kun, it's only people from school."

His anger sputtered and died when he noticed the eagerness in their eyes that spoke more than their words, when he understood they had taken great effort to plan the party all for him. "You guys, Inoue, Ishida…thanks. I appreciate it." He was sincerely touched. "We'll all help you clean up, Kurosaki," Ishida reassured, before he and Inoue walked into the crowd and their heads disappeared among several others. As a final question, just to satisfy his ego, he yelled, "Did you send Yuzu and Karin away?" He saw Ishida's pale hand appear from above the crowd in response. It was probably for the best; he didn't want them to be present at a party like this.

The relatively normal house that Yuzu took immense effort to keep tidy had been transformed into something like a night club. Ichigo was flabbergasted. He promised himself he would make everyone clean up after the party was over. If he was in his senses by then…but then, he wasn't one to lose control and flail about in parties like this one. He had never been to one like it, of course (he had declined all invitations), and this was his first experience. He felt like a fish out of water. It was even sillier because it was a party for _him_, and no one seemed to remember that, merely continuing to enjoy themselves.

Music was blasting through the house, and the living room had been transformed into an impromptu dance floor. Wouldn't the neighbors complain? There were disjointed thoughts running through his head, and without warning a picture of Grimmjow popped up in his head. The man was smirking and winking at him. He gritted his teeth and feeling a little light-headed from the thought, dove into the crowd, trying to get the image out of his head.

The next thing he knew, a liquid was rushing down his throat, a bottle pressed to his lips. Keigo was in front of him again. But this was a slightly different Keigo. His energy was different, wild and bubbling and all over the place. Ichigo snatched the beer bottle from him in shock and disgust – drinking was one thing that was forbidden in this party. What would happen if a bunch of drunken teens were let loose in the town? Worse, what would they do here? Certainly things he didn't want to imagine, and he considered going behind everyone and getting a hold of all the alcohol in the house. He would have if the bottle wasn't forced over his lips again.

"Driiink up, Ichigo. It's not every day you get to do this, eh?" He laughed, and nearly fell over. Obviously his alcohol tolerance wasn't very good, or he had drunk too much too fast, seeing as the party had started only a while ago. "KEIGO! Get a grip on yourself!" He snatched the bottle away and slapped his giggling classmate over his head, and he playfully reciprocated with a badly aimed punch that missed Ichigo's eye by nearly a foot.

This was turning into a goddamn joke. This whole party. Or should he say everything that had happened over the past few days? There it was again, the stream of unrelated thoughts that made him feel dizzy and unfocused. "You need help," he shouted at Keigo, over the raucous din. He pushed him towards the sofa and Keigo obediently complied, but when he reached he saw a couple entangled in each other, their lips glued together. The guy, who he vaguely recognized as someone on the basketball team, was hiking up the girl's skirt when the two of them noticed the birthday boy glaring at them, faltering, at a loss for words. For a few awkward moments, they stared back, then unglued their lips, sat up and walked away into the crowd calmly. "You - !" Ichigo managed, nearly paralyzed, cheeks flaming. This was a respectable house, not a – a – oh damn. In those few moments, Keigo had disappeared from by his side and was nowhere to be seen.

"STOP!" A few people around him curiously looked at him, as if he was crazy, their eyebrows raised, as he stormed around the house furiously yelling, "Stop, stop, STOP! You, stop drinking; you, this is not a strip club! Clothes ON! Hey wait, that's Karin's favorite vase!" No one so much as bothered. One guy marched over to him, shouted something incoherent about being a party pooper, and walked away equally dignified.

Okay. So this wasn't going to work. No amount of authoritarian yelling would accomplish anything here. _Fuck, I shouldn't have even allowed them inside in the first place. _Maybe he should enjoy himself like he was supposed to. In a couple of hours they would all sing for him and cut a cake and make him do ridiculous stuff. Maybe they would force him to dance on the table, or smear cake on his face.

He involuntarily took a sip from the bottle in his hand. Somehow it made everything fuzzier, but also clearer. Another sip. Then a gulp. Someone passing clapped him on the back appreciatively and he coughed.

He needed somewhere secluded to collect his thoughts for a bit, and then maybe he'd formulate a plan and return to the scene. Drowsily, he took another gulp from the bottle and trudged up the stairs, making his way to his room. Was it this one or that one? Oh yeah, his door had a '15' sign on it. He pushed it open and gave a loud sigh of relief, until he saw the same couple from downstairs on his bed.

"…eh?" he whispered. The girl shrieked and pulled her skirt down to her knees. It took a moment to realize they were in a very compromising position, and he feebly pointed towards the door, motioning for them to leave. The boy grabbed his girlfriend's hand and quickly exited. "Ha, where are you going to make out now?" he spoke as they closed the door. Another gulp. Damn, this felt good. He was delirious.

Unexpectedly, he fell on the bed and moaned loudly. His head felt clogged and his eyes couldn't distinguish shapes that well. Haha…was this how it felt to die? It wasn't so bad. The image he had been trying to suppress all morning came back in his head again. "Hey there, Grimmjow." He giggled, knowing how stupid that sounded. His free hand slid over to the waistline of his jeans and flicked open the button, making its way under his boxers…no! What the hell was he doing? He had probably lost his mind over there for a second. He couldn't touch himself now! Not here, where anyone could come in and catch him. How dumb.

He had to go elsewhere safer, of course. He gripped the bottle tightly, swaying lightly as he opened the door and walked back down to the living room. No one noticed him. He blinked twice, thrice, and suddenly came to the conclusion that the whole source of the problem was because he fancied a long stroll right now. Spontaneously, he picked the house keys off a hook and left the house, locking it from the outside. Now everyone would be safe and he wouldn't have to protect anyone from anything. He grinned.

It was another cloudless night, and the moon shone brightly upon him. He stared at it. When had he seen the moon this intently? It would be ever prettier if it didn't have those silly craters on it like blemishes. Bah. He tottered a little. _Must be careful, don't want to be caught. Must be careful, don't want to be caught. Must be careful… _

He repeated it like a mantra as he aimlessly walked along the empty street and turned corners as he felt like it. He wondered what day it was. Oh right, Sunday. No wait, Saturday. This drink had made him completely confused about everything. He shook his head and willed it to go away, but forgot about it a moment later.

There was a bench nearby. He plopped himself down on it and set the bottle down beside him, patting the neck of it affectionately. "Now you sit tight," he said, in a very un-Ichigo-ish voice. Alright! Now it was time to really stare at the moon. Why was it that people went stargazing but never moongazing? Ha. He would make history by being the first moongazer. He folded his arms and carefully observed the grayish-white orb hanging in the sky, as if expecting it to suddenly break out into song and dance.

Tonight was going to be fun, something told him, and wanted to trust that intuition, even if it made him grin like an idiot. "Yo, Grimmjow! I wonder what you're doing tonight…" he shouted, wondering why he had felt the impulse to. Maybe it was his cute little intuition telling him what to do again.

Obviously he was very surprised, even in his drunken state, when he received an amused "Yo, Kurosaki," in return.

* * *

Tonight was a night of discoveries for Grimmjow. Night and day – there was no difference in Hueco Mundo, and he particularly enjoyed the sun here. Today though, he had come here at night, after a particularly satisfying hunt in the 'morning', and he was surprised to see all the flashing lights and buzzing streets. Perhaps he could try and remember whether his own life long ago had these things, but since the confusion caused by that memory, it had long since vanished from his conscious mind. He wouldn't waste any effort trying to retrieve it; he was sufficiently shaken by the first try. He rubbed his chest reminiscently on the spot he had felt the stabbing pain that night.

He was strolling around the city casually, taking in the sights and sounds. Tonight, the air smelled different, and to an Espada like him, whose senses were highly honed and naturally tuned to the shifts in the elements, he knew that was the smell of change. He hoped it was welcome. Unwelcome change would not mean good…for whoever caused the change, anyway.

He wasn't altogether surprised when he saw a human form nearby, and observed that he was in a small park. Or at least that's what he thought it was. It had a lake at its center, and a few benches close to the water. The said human was looking intently at the sky as if he expected a pot of gold coins to fall on his head, and he stirred very little. He smelled no harm from him, and he didn't even seem to have noticed Grimmjow looking at him from behind a tree.

It was when the human shouted to the heavens, "Yo, Grimmjow!" that he was shaken out of his reverie. What was he thinking? How could he have _not_ recognized this human? This was Kurosaki! He would know his reiatsu anywhere. Upon extending tendrils of his own spiritual pressure towards him, he realized that Kurosaki's reiatsu felt different tonight. It was still very small – perhaps slightly bigger than the last time he had seen him, though – but it wasn't controlled, contained. It showed itself in little bursts, which was very unnatural behavior for anyone's reiatsu.

And most importantly. How had he known Grimmjow was there? There was a perplexing coiling and uncoiling in his abdomen, and somehow he knew he should probably forget about that and walk to him. He just _knew_. He took a deep breath of the tangy night air and walked towards him. His voice, when it came out, was a low rumble. "Yo, Kurosaki."

The kid's head snapped over to him and he looked at him unflinchingly. He frowned. What was he doing? Ordinarily he would have jumped to his feet and raised clenched fists. He hadn't even expected for him to be able see him anyway. Hadn't he lost all his reiryoku? But then, how had his spiritual pressure increased from last time? Was he able to see him now? Hadn't he been able to see him that day, from the window? He recalled his agonized scream as he called out his name, and it pained him that he couldn't go back and reply; he simply couldn't. The residual pang poked him even now. If he had stayed, things might have turned out differently (and very favorably) for both of them.

Any questions he had in his mind were left unanswered as Kurosaki laughed. It was a rich, gurgling sound, nothing like his usual laugh, but one that was fluid and free. He was astonished as Kurosaki opened his mouth to speak. "Ahhhh…so it's you, Grimmjow! Ahahaha, I didn't recognize you at first. I was watching the moon, you know," he added, very seriously, "so I thought you were one of those moon men." He nodded to himself. "Wow, tonight is beautiful, hey? Oh! Look at that lake! Who would have thought we'd have a lake here, eh? Fancy a dip?" He laughed to himself and patted Grimmjow on the shoulder, motioning for him to sit down beside him.

He didn't. Wasn't it pretty obvious that there was a lake here? "Kurosaki? Are you in your senses or do you need a whack around the head?" The smaller male smirked. "What do you think?" _Yeah, whack around the head_. He hit the right side of his head. "OW! Owwww, Grimmjow, you goddamn idiot." He rubbed his head and glowered at him. "That huuurts. It hurts, really! After all I did for you, Grimmjow! I PROTECTED you!" He limply fell back on the bench after that angry statement and shot him another threatening look. Grimmjow was baffled.

Okay, this was not Kurosaki. This was a Kurosaki impostor, right? Why did he have Kurosaki's reiatsu then? Regardless of his enraged exclamation, he pushed him again, but on the arm. "Kurosaki! What gives, huh? Did you see to it that you got mentally retarded since the last…last time?" The other male was staring blankly at the sky, and averted his vision. "No, no, see it's my birthday tomorrow, why would I want to get retarded? Ever so logical, Grimmjow. Tch." He shook his head disapprovingly and picked up a bottle by his side. "Haha…just some more then." He raised it to his lips and let the cool liquid trickle over them, down his neck. Laughing as Grimmjow watched on, he shook the bottle before his wide eyes. "Want some?"

He returned his gaze skeptically. "'The fuck is that." He thought he could guess, but in the human world, he was more or less lost trying to figure out all the useless shit they had come up with.

"Beer," Kurosaki replied simply, and held the bottle out. Grimmjow looked at the bottle, then at him, and then slapped it away, eliciting a pained groan from him, as he reprimanded him for not being careful with glass. For _fuck_'s sake! Wasn't it painfully obvious that that was what had brought Kurosaki to this state? He wasn't going to knowingly brainwash himself. Wasn't it the same stuff that the bastard Gin had hid away bottles of? He recalled how on some days he would tipsily stumble into meetings late. He had always been irked by the fact that Aizen had never bothered to tell him off, whereas if Grimmjow came late for a couple of days, he'd get terrible treatment. He hated the silver-haired freak. Especially when he was drunk, which is what he understood Kurosaki was. He was so much more of a snake then, twisting around everyone and creeping by their legs.

Once Gin had offered some to everyone. Aizen had turned it down politely, Tousen a little more brusquely (but he swore he could have seen the fucker gulping it down after everyone had left), and so had Harribel, Ulquiorra and Aaroniero (Could he even drink anything through that glass box he stuffed his head – or heads – in?). Grimmjow, never one to refuse new experiences, had carefully tried some, and it wasn't so bad, yeah. Good stuff, really – it had put him on a high for a few hours, but it dulled his senses, and anything that dulled his senses was something meant to be thrown away far into the distance and Ceroed. And so he never tried it again.

If Kurosaki had managed to swallow the entire contents of that bottle, he was more or less done for the day. This little-girlish, weird Kurosaki was miles away from the one he knew. The one he knew was the one he never would admit he admired secretly, and this one wasn't even recognizable anymore. He had gone back to scrutinizing the moon again, softly singing something indistinct, hands occasionally flying up in front of him to aid him in his singing. It was hilarious, if he could say so himself, but he couldn't take his eyes off him.

"Hey Grimmjow." His small voice interrupted his thinking and he looked at him questioningly. He had stopped singing. "I've been thinking…do you want to come to my party?" Almost immediately after posing the question, his eyes lit up and he smiled enthusiastically, and it was evident that he expected a response in the affirmative.

_So it's come to this, eh? Where we pretend to be friends, like we've never fought and made each other bleed, and like I never punched the Shinigami bitch in the gut. _He chuckled darkly. It had really come to this. He had never anticipated it playing out this way; truthfully he hadn't anticipated any meeting of any sort. In a normal world, he'd stop chasing Kurosaki after a while, and his feelings would wither away with the crimson leaves as they fell, and by winter, they wouldn't exist at all. Come spring, he would begin life anew along with the rest of nature, and they would walk separate paths, never to cross again. Their story would be a closed book, and the last chapter would remain unfinished.

But this was not a normal world. This was the world where stories could begin anew, where any negativity and any barriers between him and Kurosaki crumbled away and left them bare like winter trees waiting for the light of the emerging sun, with only raw emotion and searing hope to keep them alive.

After the Winter War, they had walked into a world of eternal spring. And he liked it that away. The wind had changed tonight, and it was carrying them in a different direction, to a better future.

Maybe it really was for the best that Kurosaki was drunk. Grimmjow was only just beginning to come to terms with his feelings, a side of him he had neglected for years now, a side that he had best explore before Lady Luck stopped smiling on him, on both of them. Kurosaki had better be using their sudden run of good fortune for the best, or he would bash his skull in. He was such a clueless shit sometimes.

_Sorry to ruin your mood_, he thought, and whispered, "No. Your friends would flip their shit."

He laughed heartily. "When have you cared about my friends, Grimmjow?" His sapphire eyes widened and he looked urgently at Kurosaki, but detected no ill feeling in his face, and his muscles relaxed. "Aw, come on," he drawled, "it's my birthday, and my invitation is what counts, isn't it?" Gentle fingers ran down the length of Grimmjow's arm, and he tensed again. Those fingers were the same ones he had entwined his own with centuries ago, the very same… The warmth and the contact with human skin brought the strangest emotions up to the surface, and he brushed away the intruding hand before he lost control, and snarled at him. He backed away for a second, and he noticed the fear shining in his comforting earthy eyes.

"Sorry," he grumbled, and Kurosaki made an expression of mock surprise ("Grimmjow, I'm touched! Was that the first time you've ever said sorry? Oh my goodness!"). Then with a softer expression, he muttered, "Come to my party, won't you?"

He couldn't say no. He couldn't, not to that voice and those pleading eyes and those warm fingers which were on his arm again. He couldn't, he couldn't say… "No."

Kurosaki gave him one last look of desperation, and he felt too guilty to return it, staring instead at his feet as the fingers withdrew, there was a small, sad sigh, and the man by his side stood up from the bench and slowly stepped away, leaving Grimmjow alone on the bench.

Until the receding form of Ichigo Kurosaki tottered where he stood, balanced on one foot and gracefully arched backward, poised to hit the ground. He flew forward and caught his torso as he fell, and a glance at his face revealed he had either fainted or fallen asleep. There was a peaceful elegance in his face, one that Grimmjow knew he certainly didn't possess himself.

He looked long and hard at the limp man in his arms, and leaned forward until their noses almost touched. Kurosaki's lips still held a remnant of his disappointed expression. The breeze had stopped, and nothing was moving. Nature was waiting for Grimmjow's response.

He gritted his teeth and it was all he could do to keep himself from screaming in frustration. How could he have the balls to do something like that to someone who didn't know he was being taken advantage of? No, that wasn't the real reason. How could he do something like that without even having figured out his feelings for this guy? Tonight, the heady sense of new possibilities had blinded, intoxicated him, and Kurosaki's vulnerability had exaggerated that. What he was doing was akin to fighting him when he was wounded; it was something his code of honor didn't allow for.

He carried him back to the bench and laid him on it. Instinctively, he knew what he needed to do. He raised his palm and closed his eyes as if concentrating, and his body flared up with a blue flame. A ball of the glowing fire coalesced in front of his hand, and he cautiously placed the hand over Kurosaki's chest. The wind blew around the two of them with frightful force. Kurosaki's eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown, and his body shuddered. The blue flame encircled him as well. _This is for you, Kurosaki._ He couldn't say it out loud, but there was only one thought in his mind as he channeled a portion of his reiatsu into Kurosaki's soul, hoping fervently that his soul would accept the only thing he could give him right now.

Kurosaki's muscles tensed one last time, and then he fell back onto the bench with a thud, as Grimmjow felt his energy level drop drastically, leaving him panting. No matter, the reiatsu could be replenished in a matter of hours. That made it sound like a small gift, but it was all he could do to help him. The younger man's face was calm again.

He slipped his hands under him, and lifted him up in his arms, taking off to where he knew Kurosaki lived. He would drop him off there and hope his friends would find him before morning. The kid needed to rest.

There were a great many humans in the house, and he knew that must have been the party Kurosaki had been asking him to come along for. He had masked his own reiatsu very carefully the whole night, and the only possible time it could have showed itself was when he had transferred some of it into Kurosaki. He dropped the unmoving form onto the doormat, and after a moment of hesitation, flew off into the sky, opened a Garganta, and went back home.

_Get well, Kurosaki._

* * *

**A/N****: And there we go, the chapter's over. Both of them were definitely too carried away, weren't they? Ichigo's going to wake up with a headache on his birthday, and he's in no fit condition for his own party. Those people in Ichigo's party were a little too excited, if you ask me. If they wanted to do stuff like that, they should have gone to a bar and not come to poor Ichigo's house. **

**That said, I don't think Ichigo has very good alcohol tolerance himself. No, really. He got drunk from just one bottle. And if you're confused about his strange behavior as soon as he started drinking, I suppose the initial buzz did all sorts of things to his head, because he hasn't ever felt it before. His thoughts were already out of control, and this gave them full free reign, I suppose.**

**Keigo, on the other hand (if you were wondering)… he had had much more before opening the bottle that he offered Ichigo. **

**Review and tell me how much it takes to get Grimmjow drunk! What do you think he'll do under the influence?**

**P.S.: Ishida doesn't really read shoujo manga behind his textbooks. Well, not **_**all**_** the time.**


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